


The Way That She Looked

by Catchclaw



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Genderswap, Jealousy, Lactation Kink, M/M, Magic, Pregnancy Kink, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Loki insults a queen. Thor pays the price.





	The Way That She Looked

Thor took a step back from the mirror and stared. There was little else he could do; he was in no position, in that moment, for speech. For somehow, somewhere between the palace of Alfheim and here, the privacy of the king’s chambers on Asgard, his body had become something unfamiliar, something wholly unlike his own.

He blinked again, resisted the urge to rub at his eyes. This was no dream, no trick of wine. This, somehow, was he.

His breasts--for that’s what they were, what they felt like, no question no doubt--sat high, firm and impossible sweet. His hair was the same, long and tangled blonde, but there was a softness to his face now, to the curve of his belly, to the feel of his thighs. And oh, as to what lay between them--

It was Loki’s fault, of course. But when wasn’t it?

He’d insulted Aelsa, the queen of Alfheim, which in and of itself was a feat. She was famously impossible to anger even in the stickiest of diplomatic situation; prone to trills of laughter when voices were raised and calls for more fairywine.

And yet, they’d had to flee her palace apace, chased by her guards, all because of something that Loki had chosen to whisper to her at dinner, right at the heart of the feast.

“What the hel did you say?!” Thor had shouted as they ran.

“Oh,” Loki had called, not winded at all, “nothing. I merely noted that there are those in her own kingdom who dispute her right to the throne.”

“You did  _ what _ ?” Thor had bellowed, or tried to, just as Heimdal at last heard their call.

When they’d arrived on Asgard, he’d felt strange, as if his skin were uneasy.

By the time they reached the palace, he’d felt ill. 

By the time he’d reached their chambers, he’d felt so tired he could not stand and had fallen into bed in a heap.

And when Loki had swept in, having seen to the evening’s business, Thor had torn into the bathroom in terror, whipped as if a hound were at his heels, awash in the certainty that something was very, very wrong.

And now, staring down the strange shape of his reflection, he knew why.

“Thor,” Loki said through the door. “What’s the matter with you?”

Thor laughed, a laugh that was not his, a laugh whose high notes and semi-hysteria served only to underscore the damn problem. “Open the door,” he called, “and you’ll see.”

The look on Loki’s face almost--almost--made up for the bizarreness of it all.

“You, ah--well. All right.” Loki stared, his mouth twitching. “Not at all what I would have guessed.”

“That is much less than helpful.”

“I know, darling, I know.” Loki stepped closer and raised his hands, swept them in incantation lines over and around Thor’s body. “Just hold still and we’ll see who’s done this to you, all right?”

Thor crossed his arms. “That’s no mystery, sure. This must be Aelsa’s revenge.”

“She threw us out of her kingdom,” Loki said mildly, his magic still humming. “Surely that was revenge enough.”

“And yet,” Thor said, “here I stand in the guise of a maid. The timing can’t be a coincidence.” 

Loki straightened, sighed. “It’s not. It’s definitely the work of a Light Elf. And a powerful one, too.”

“Wonderful.”

“But one with a short shelf life.” Loki ticked Thor under the chin, not at all fighting a grin. “It took a lot of work to alter you thus. I should think it won’t last much past morning.”

Thor groaned. “That long?”

“Is it so unpleasant?”

“It feels”--Thor wiggled a little, tried to shake off the feeling like the weight of a cloak--“very odd.”

Loki stroked his cheek. “Mmm, I’m sure. Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s uncomfortable. Unsettling, at the very least, to look down and not see yourself.”

Loki slid an arm around Thor’s waist and tugged, tucked Thor’s bare skin against his leathers. “I can think of ways to make the hours go by.”  
  
Thor snorted. “I'm sure you can."

His brother tickled his back, let one hand come to rest at the base of his spine. “Merely a suggestion. You are still you. I am still me.” A rush of breath at Thor’s ear. “And I find you exquisite.” 

Something in him stirred, even amidst all the strange; something fundamental, important, that the appearance of his body, no matter how bizarre, could not change. “Do you now?”

A short catch of teeth. “Oh yes, darling. I do.”

Thor raised his arms, slowly, and wound them around Loki’s neck. “Perhaps,” he said, “if you kissed me, then we might see how things lie.”

One kiss, then a dozen, and then Thor was in Loki’s arms, squawking as he was pulled featherweight from his feet and carried in three steps to the bed.

“Have you ever had a woman?” Thor asked, watching Loki tear out of his clothes.

“No,” Loki said with a smile as broad as the sky. “But I’ve been one. Does that count?” He tugged off his smallclothes and slithered onto the bed. “Now come here, sweet lady, and spread your legs.”

He knew enough, at least, to tend to Thor’s needs first, to nuzzle his breasts and lick at his nipples and bury his face in folds of his most intimate flesh. When Loki raised his head, his chin was soaked, his mouth impossibly, gorgeously red, and as he sank into Thor, stretch and fervent slide, Thor couldn't stop kissing him,couldn’t stop lapping the taste of his own slick from between Loki’s sharp teeth. And, oh, how sharp they were.

“I’d see you full,” Loki grunted. “This pretty belly swollen with my child, Thor. Would you like that?”

It was a base idea, a ridiculous one; even Loki’s magic was not enough to make possible such a thing. And yet, and yet--perhaps it was that very impossibility that made the walls of Thor’s newfound cunt soften and draw Loki in as deep as he might.

“No,” Thor panted, even still. “No, no. Never.”

His brother groaned and moved all the faster, the swell inside Thor, the stiff, unflagging. “You’d be beautiful, though, were you full of me. A goddess worthy of worship. And oh, how beautiful, brother, would our child be.”

A cry from Thor’s throat, a tear.

“And your tits,” Loki hissed. “These sweet peaches full. Your nipples puffy and so, so hungry. Would you cry out for my mouth then?”

Thor pounded on his brother’s back, scratched, as his face heated with desire and shame. “Milk for the child," he managed. "Not you.”

Loki laughed. “Oh, but your body wouldn’t care, darling. It would know only the pressure, the push; the need for something hot for you to bury your breast in, two lips that could hold you and suck.”

“Loki--!”

“Or I could make you wait and squeeze them when we’re fucking, when you’re on top. Can you see yourself squirting like that, a hot stream from your tits as you take my cock?”

Thor came with a cry that ripped from him, a jagged noise that rang from the walls, and the sound Loki made in return was triumphant and greedy, a song of hunger that somehow, after all their years together, was new.

“Oh, yes,” Loki said, biting at Thor’s throat, his hips still moving, his rhythm ragged. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my queen?”

Again and again, they made love as the night passed until the hours seemed a daisy chain, one pleasure tied again to the next, until at last the sky lightened and the spell began to fray and Loki withdrew from him, reluctant, for the last time. But he kept their faces close, their fingers tangled in the damp, knotted sheets.

“What a mess you are, darling,” Loki murmured.

“And whose fault is that?” There was no heat to Thor’s words, nothing left like a bite.

“Hmmm, honestly? Yours."

“How in any way is that sensible?”

Loki kissed his eyelids, one by one. “If you were not so irresistible, so ripe, so fresh for the taking, then you would still be as you were. Pristine.”

Thor chuckled. “If I had to be ruined by any man, I’d prefer it to be you.”

“Have I ruined you?” A soft swipe through his labia, a gentle brush of his clit. “You feel anything but so to me. You feel like divinity itself.”

Their mouths met again, lazy. Lingered for a time, sweet and long, as Loki’s fingers traced the fading swell of Thor’s breasts and back.

“You will send a raven to Alfheim,” Thor said at last, in a voice that felt more like his own. “Today, as a prelude to an apology. And then you will take the gifts I select to their queen and make your amends clearly and publicly known.”

Loki huffed. “An apology? I was merely highlighting fact. I meant no offense.”

“Oh, yes you did.” Thor kissed the top of his brother’s head. “You’ve never liked her.”

“No,” Loki said. “But I suppose I used to be better at hiding it.”

“What changed, then? Did she spit in your food, or perhaps mock your cape? I told you I thought it was fetching.”

He felt Loki’s face flush against his chest. “Ugh. You’ll mock me for this, brother.”

“Probably.” Thor squeezed him. “All right, highly likely.”

Loki sat up a stretch and peered down at him. “The way that she looked at you changed.”

“How so?”

“She looked--oh, Norns, Thor, don’t make me say it.”

Thor’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Oh, now you have to.”

“Covetous," Loki spat. "That's the only word for it. It made me jealous, the way she was looking. As if you were something she by rights somehow could have.” He turned away, turned his face towards the coming dawn. “I know it’s ridiculous, believe me. But I felt it anyway.”

Thor smoothed a hand over his brother’s burning cheek. “Suddenly the nature of this curse makes much more sense.”

Loki’s shoulders rose and fell a little, as if he were trying to laugh. “Indeed.”

“You know that I love you.”

“I know. But”--and here Loki looked back, his eyes glittering--“there are times when I wish that knowledge was more widespread.”

“Are my affections a secret? I’ve made no effort to make them such.” Thor frowned. “You sit at my right hand, Loki; you are my most trusted adviser, my confidant. And we share a bed, for hel’s sake!"

“That is all true.”

The silence was heavy. So heavy that outside, in the distance, there was a flicker of thunder, a hint of coming rain.

“But,” Thor said, his mind turning over the circumstances, the events of the night, the look of real hurt on Loki’s face, “I haven’t given you a title that would make that connection clear to all the Aesir or to the rulers of other Realms, have I?”

“No," Loki said quietly. "You haven't."

Thor spread a thumb over Loki’s chin, over the shallow river of tears. “Why didn’t you tell me it was something you wanted? I had no idea.”

Loki caught Thor’s hand--big again, and once more broad--in both of his and kissed the tips of each finger. “Because,” he said at last. “I didn’t know. Not until yesterday. Not until I saw Aelsa look at you that way.”

Thor sat up and wrapped Loki in his arms. “Then I shall name you my consort, if such a title is to your liking.”

A sigh, a soft, content kiss. “It is.”

“And make a lot of proper noise about it, so loudly that the even those in Valhalla can hear." He nipped at his brother's ear. "But you still have to apologize.”

Loki turned his head and caught Thor’s lips, wound his hands deep into Thor’s hair. “Do I?” he murmured. “Are you certain, my king?”

“I am,” Thor said between kisses, tugging Loki back into the sheets, and rutting against him gently, reveling in the familiar weight of his own cock, in the way Loki's  legs opened for him, eager. “Shall I show you how much?”

 

*****   
  


They did not speak of it again. Not in so many words. But there were nights when the king of Asgard pulled his consort astride him and whispered, ever so gently,  _ please _ . And on those nights, the consort stripped the king from his clothes and breathed a spell into the air, wove a shining net with his words, and when the words were done and the clothes were gone, the king of Asgard was once again, for one night only, a queen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> On a run of writing stuff no one will read, it seems! But hey: better out in the world than stuck as a WIP.


End file.
